


Broken

by Master_Magician



Category: Quantum Break (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_Magician/pseuds/Master_Magician
Summary: The burdens of Beth's mission and what she has seen become too much for her to handle alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Image my surprise one day when I discovered Quantum Break available on Steam. I had resigned myself to never being able to play it. But I found it, and it was glorious! I loved Alan Wake (a writer playing a writer just made it feel cooler), and Quantum Break felt similar.
> 
> So here I am, making my contribution to a fledgling fandom.
> 
> Heads up, this starts out pretty mild but gets really dark. Like bad coping mechanisms dark. So, fair warning. I might need to raise this to M but I don't know. My definitions of ratings are a little different from everyone else. If it should be M, let me know and I will change it immediately.
> 
> Enjoy.

Beth Wilder had never considered herself a religious person. Why put faith in some invisible figure when you could trust your own two hands more? When you could do something and actually see a difference, good or bad.

No, Beth was not religious.

But she had seen what hell looked like.

It wasn't some cavern full of lave, fire, brimstone, and demonic monsters. Oh there were monsters alright, but hell was a lot different from what she'd heard all her life.

Hell was stillness, it was silence. People lining the streets, some walking, some still in their cars in heavy traffic. Some not even outside of their homes. Beth had seen many sitting on their couches watching TV, others lay in bed asleep.

People were everywhere, nobody was dead. People didn't starve, they weren't affected by exposure to the elements. They were all perfectly fine. Just stuck in place, frozen in time.

Forever.

The End of Time, that was what hell looked like.

To this day, years later, Beth still wasn't sure just how long she was there. When time stood still, clocks didn't work. Not even the sky changed. She could have been there for days, for months, perhaps even years. She had a watch, but that had been broken in one of her scuffles with Paul Serene.

Paul Serene, the very man indirectly responsible for all of this. The Fracture was an accident, but that didn't make it any less his fault. He did this, all of it, and Beth wanted him to pay.

One would think that as the only two people on the planet still functional, the pair would work together, at the very least for survival. But Beth couldn't do it. Every time she saw him it was like a sickening reminder of what this man would cause in the future. If Beth could kill him, she would stop it all.

Without Serene, there would be no Fracture. Everything was a trail of dominoes, and that event was one of the bigger ones. Without that piece, she could save the world and everyone in it.

Even Jack's brother William could be spared. Beth may never have met the man, but it was the least she could do for Jack.

Not the first time Beth found her thoughts drifting back to her missing partner. Amaral had screwed with the controls, Beth know that the moment the door closed behind her. But Jack hadn't had a chance to follow her into the machine, he didn't have a clue where, or when, she was.

Had he known, Beth wondered if he would have followed her through the corridor to The End of Time. Would Jack have followed her through the river of time all the way to the end? The same experience that drove Serene to the brink of madness... would Jack have gone after her?

He would have... it was just who Jack was. The guy took loyalty to a whole new level. Maybe it was a desire to protect what little he had left. The two hadn't had much time to talk, but Beth managed to learn a few things about Jack during their short conversations.

For starters, the man literally had nobody. Family, friends, hell even coworkers, nothing. Neither did Beth, but she had lived her life remembering she had a higher purpose. Jack had no such reassurances, everyone he cared about just faded away one by one. By the time all this started, the only ones left were William and Paul. Older brother and best friend respectively. One died before Jack's eyes and couldn't be saved. The other saw the End of Time, became their enemy, and killed the former.

How on earth did Jack keep going? The man just shrugged off everything, he took the hits life dealt and kept fighting. Beth would never tell Jack this, she could already hear his snarky comment, but she admired that quality about him.

They hadn't even known each other for more than a day, but stopping the end of the universe together tended to form bonds pretty quickly. Beth wouldn't have gone around calling him her best friend but he was... special to her.

Bang.

"Damn." Beth hissed as her bullet missed the target and hit the wall behind it. Not that she was worried, solid concrete was there for a reason. But her focus was going out.

Loading another clip, Beth fired again, and missed again.

"No." Beth felt her breathing quicken. All the thoughts and images came flooding back like a tidal wave. Those people stuck for all eternity, the end of the universe. The shifters hunting her like an animal, never allowing her to stay in one place for very long. Every narrow escape and every image from her trip to the End of Time flashed before her like some bizarre slideshow.

Frantically reloading another clip, Beth unloaded more rounds at the metal target until the magazine was empty once more. She tried to focus on the clank of the slugs hitting the metal targets, the recoil of the gun through her arm. If she could keep her focus on that, she could keep these memories at bay again. She could do this, she had to.

But Beth couldn't.

No matter how hard she tried, her mental nightmare refused to stop. As if to rubbing in her face 'this is what will happen if you screw up'. Not like she didn't feel the pressure every day, but times like these it became almost unbearable.

She couldn't do this... she was going to screw up and it would be all her fault.

Beth rushed from the room into where she kept her meager bunk. She felt the flashbacks coming on earlier in the day. She spent most of the daylight out in the city painting more graffiti wherever she could. It helped to keep her terrors at bay, but it didn't work for her this time. So she came back to Bradbury and put some time on her personal shooting range. When painting didn't help, firearm practice did.

But this time was different, Beth could tell. The flashes and thoughts were becoming overwhelming, her grasp on reality starting to slip. But before she could let that happen she fumbled among what few possessions she kept in her 'room'.

It had to be here.

It had to be here.

It had to be here!

Beth's last resort, when all else failed, this was her only hope. She didn't like doing it, quite the opposite, but it was the only thing stopping her sanity from cracking completely. Beth either used it, or her mind would be consumed by fear and memory.

"Where the fuck is it!" Beth was all but screaming now. It was indeed a last resort, therefore it was rarely used.

There it was.

Beth breathed a sigh of relief as she flicked her wrist, hearing the comforting click of the pocket knife being flipped open. She was starting to worry she had gotten rid of it after the last time.

She wouldn't though, every time Beth used the knife she would tell herself it was the last. That she'd never need it again and could throw it in the river. It never happened, Beth had tried, but she couldn't make herself do it.

Beth would hate herself afterward, just like she always did. She wouldn't dare look in a mirror for fear of the shame lurking in her own eyes. Just thinking about it made her sick to her stomach, but it was the only option left.

With trembling hands, Beth pulled up the sleeve of her left arm. She had to force herself to ignore the old white scars in perfect lines across her skin. If she didn't, just looking at them would make her throw up what little she'd been able to eat today.

After the sleeve was pulled all the way to her shoulder, Beth pressed the icy cold steel of the knife into her flesh. She had to make sure not to go too low. As tempting as the prospect was, she didn't want to accidentally slit her wrists and bleed to death.

Beth winced as she jerked her hand and sliced a fine red line into her skin. The fresh wound stung and hurt, but hurt was good. Hurt was something she could focus on, could use to block out everything else.

Sucking in a breath, Beth poured her entire thought process into the stinging cut. Other than the sound of heavy breathing, Beth made not a sound as a second and third slash followed the first. With each new line, Beth's thoughts grew more coherent. Then came a fourth.

Beth finally let out a quiet moan as her mind basked in the blissful silence the pain brought. Yes, she could do this. She could hold on to herself and wait for William to finish the countermeasure then after that she could take it and figure things out from there. She could still save the world.

After today this damn knife was going in the...

It was like riding a train, everything perfectly normal then bam, the train crashes. Beth's memories came back with a brutal vengeance.

The shifters once had her cornered in her warehouse hideout, her only escape was a two story jump into a dumpster. She'd made the jump, but landed on her back.

There was no describing her utter horror at the possibility she'd damaged her chronon harness.

By that point, she wasn't wearing it outside her clothes anymore. When her Monarch uniform became too torn to wear, she'd abandoned it something else. But since the harness couldn't be removed, she had to constantly feel the straps and device digging into her skin. It was both her protector and torturer all rolled up into one.

If it had been damaged, Beth had no way of knowing. Every second of the rest of the time spent in that frozen hell was spent in terror that she would freeze any moment and wouldn't notice it.

It was impossible to see now because of her baggy ragged clothes, but Beth still wore the harness. After arriving in 1999, she couldn't make herself remove it. The power must have roached out by now, but Beth didn't know that. It had been the pain of the machine rubbing into her back that gave Beth the idea for the knife therapy.

But now that trick wasn't working either.

"No..." Beth felt her panic welling up. "No no no."

This had to work. It had to!

Beth didn't even stop to think. She made a fifth cut on her arm, still nothing.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

More cuts were made. But no matter how many times the blade pierced her skin, Beth's memories wouldn't back off. They forced her to relive every experience she suffered, the pressure of what was asked of her all her life reaching a new crescendo.

Nine.

Ten.

Beth sobbed as she continued slicing into her arm. She was no longer counting anymore. All she could think of was three words. Each repetition punctuated with more wounds.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

The lines were no longer nice and neat either. Beth carved into her arm like a butcher would a slab of meat. At some point she lost the ability to feel any of the pain, but this only made her try harder. She had to still be able to feel something!

The blood ran down Beth's arm like a river. She'd never done this much before. Maybe one or two, three at absolute most. But her mind was too far gone to even comprehend what she was even doing.

Beth's hands shook so badly, she could no longer keep hold of the knife. Between her shaking hands, and all the blood on them, the object slipped from her grip to clatter to the floor.

The problem persisted, Beth needed a way out. There had to be something she could still...

Beth's eyes narrowed on the handgun sitting at her side. In her haste to find the knife, she'd forgotten to leave the weapon back at her impromptu range. She hadn't even noticed she'd dropped it on her bunk.

Beth's lips split in a sickening parody of a smile that would not have been out of place at an insane asylum. She finally had her solution laid out before her.

With hands still violently trembling, Beth reached for the gun. She was starting to grow dizzy, the many fresh wounds on her arm continuing to leak crimson fluid. It took several attempts, but Beth managed to get her fingers wrapped around the handle.

It took almost all of Beth's fading strength to even lift the weapon. With hands growing more and more numb by the second, she clicked the magazine release and checked the number of bullets still in the clip.

None... but maybe...

The clip was empty, but one round still remained in the chamber. The rest of her supply was too far for her to reach in her current state. Didn't matter, one was all she needed.

Raising the gun up, Beth put the barrel in her mouth.

Many times Beth had thought about doing this, but she'd always made herself back down before she could. She had still clung to some vain hope what she did would make a difference. Truth was she didn't do anything. Nothing she did ever helped, nothing she did would ever work. She was nothing but a specter of a forgotten cause. A ghost of a time yet to come.

It was time to stop fighting and just let go.

Beth began to squeeze the trigger when a voice stopped her cold. "Beth, no."

Impossible... it couldn't be him. There was just no way.

Scared of what she would see, Beth lifted her gaze to the source of the sound and froze with the gun barrel still between her Beth knew she herself looked radically different from the last time they met, he hadn't changed whatsoever. The man even had that same button-up shirt and jacket Beth remembered.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Jack Joyce.

Beth couldn't move, couldn't speak. All she could do was sit there and stare as Jack approached her. He said not a word, instead slowly reaching up to take her hand and pull the gun away and out of her slippery grip. Beth had neither the ability, nor desire to resist.

With the gun taken away, Jack gripped Beth's upper arm where she hadn't cut into. His grip was firm, but gentle as he pulled her to her feet and out of the room. Beth was lost, Jack could have led her directly into a volcano and she would have followed.

There was one thing Beth noticed. While Jack was beside her, Beth's mind had gone quiet. No horrible memories, no fear of failure, no pressure. Just a perfect calm Beth had not known in many, many years.

As the duo walked, Beth also became aware of just how much blood she'd already lost. As soon as she was on her feet the entire world spun, every step took a lot of effort, and she stumbled every other one. But Jack said nothing, gently guiding her and helping her stay on her feet.

Their trip led to the bathroom where Jack guided her to sit on the toilet while he opened a first aid kit Beth stashed away. How he even knew it was there she didn't know.

Jack's first order of business was to remove Beth's coat. The garment was already stained red with blood, Beth's entire outfit was in a similar state. It would have to be thrown away and newer clothes stolen later.

With the coat out of the way, Jack took a seat beside Beth and began cleaning the various cuts now covering Beth's arm. The alcohol stung, but the shame of Jack seeing all of this stung worse. She didn't want him to see her like this.

It was a small wonder in of itself. Beth didn't think she could be self-conscious anymore. She thought she'd lost that years ago, but Jack brought it back somehow. For some reason, Beth cared how Jack saw her. Now he was seeing her like someone who belonged in a homeless shelter. Didn't help that's exactly where her clothes came from.

Even worse, Jack was seeing just how fucked up she'd become in his absence.

Beth wished she'd taken a shower at least in the last few days, that she'd at least combed her hair, that she wasn't wearing old tattered clothing. All things Beth didn't care about anymore.

Until now.

With most of the blood wiped away and the wounds cleaned, Jack set about wrapping her arm up with bandages. For most of the procedure, Beth did her absolute best not to look at Jack, scared of what she would find if she did.

When Beth finally made herself look up form the floor, she was surprised what she found. Jack hadn't looked at her directly, focusing instead on patching her up. But Beth could see it in his eyes. There was no anger, judgement, or disappointment. But there was worry.

It made Beth even sicker to her stomach. She didn't deserve this treatment. If Jack was going to save the world, he might have an easier time of it if he cut her loose.

Finishing up her arm, Jack put the medical kit away. Beth remained catatonic until he came back and took her by the arm to again guide her from the room. He brought her back to her bunk and sat her down. Thankfully the rags that was her bedding was still relatively clean. All the blood from her cutting had either dried into her clothes or formed an equally drying puddle on the floor.

Helping Beth to lay down, Jack sat at her side, a hand stroking over her filthy tresses. Beyond occasional brushing past people it was the first human contact Beth had in years. She didn't realize how badly she'd missed it.

"Get some rest." Jack's voice sounded far away. As hard as Beth tried, she couldn't stay awake. Even if she hadn't lost so much blood, her body was physically drained and exhausted.

"J... Jack..." Beth wanted to say something, beg Jack to promise he would be there when she woke up. But she couldn't get the words to form. His name was the only one she could.

"Shh." Jack hushed her. "Sleep."

As everything went black, Beth's last sight was Jack at her side.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beth woke with a loud groan, her arm sore as hell. Why did it...

Thoughts ground to a halt when Beth's groggy eyes found the bandages wrapped around her limb.

It wasn't a dream!

With no small amount of shame, Beth recalled everything that happened. From the cutting to her near suicide to... Jack!

"Jack!" Beth called out when she discovered he was no longer on her bunk. He had to be around here somewhere. He wouldn't have gone far.

No response, the building was silent as a tomb.

"Jack!" Beth called again into the silence.

She was still extremely weak, but Beth made herself stand. Using a hand on the wall for support, Beth made her way out into the main room of the building.

Jack was here, Beth remembered that so clearly. If her arm was not enough evidence, Beth's still loaded gun lay beside her bunk on the table where Jack had left it. Her bloody coat was folded up in the bathroom sink also where Jack left it.

When Beth's eyes fell upon the time machine, Beth had a spark of inspiration. The only way Jack could have arrived without looking different was if he had come through the machine.

Beth shouldn't have tried to sprint to the controls, falling on her face was a perfect reminder of just how weak she was. But she had to get there, she needed to see for herself.

The building had rudimentary power, but the machine didn't have the proper resources to be used. It was why she was still in this time. But it had enough power to operate the controls, such as the one Beth could use to see if anyone had come through.

Shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, Beth started up the computer. While she did, all the possibilities ran through her head. Jack could be outside scouting the building. He could have gone for a look around, or even gone to his brother's workshop to see him. The last one was the most...

Beth's world came crashing down when the system showed no one had come through. Jack was never here, but then who the hell patched her up?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beth never got her answer until much later.

It was another day just like the first one. Beth was losing her sanity and all of her attempts at coping were failing. She'd again resorted to the knife much to her own disgust.

Just as the blade began to press to her skin, she'd heard that voice once more. "Beth, no."

Beth had dropped the knife the moment she heard him. As he did last time, Jack appeared to Beth to instill in her a sense of renewed calm and peace.

That was the day she understood Jack was never real. At least the one she was seeing wasn't. He was just a hallucination of Beth's fractured psyche.

Real or not, when Jack would appear Beth would find new strength to keep going. She was never able to speak to him, he always came when Beth was her most vulnerable. But he never failed to pull her back from the brink no matter how far gone she was.

The day after Jack's second appearance, Beth at last threw the knife in the river.

It was no longer needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, kinda got away from me. I had an idea but when I started it went further than I thought it would. I always liked doing angst, feels like it comes natural. I have ideas for more Quantum Break stories, but that all depends on how this one is received.
> 
> Let me know how I did.


End file.
